Hunted
by Kevin-234
Summary: Far up the Misty Mountains a band of orcs is hunted by an unknown enemy.


**This was originally going to be the prologue to a story I was planning on writing but It never worked out so I just posted this as a one shot. Feel free to review. Enjoy.**

Lightning flickered across the cloudy night sky, illuminating the Misty Mountains briefly. The mixture of light, combined with the shadows of the night, outlined the mountains beautifully. A moment later the silence was shattered as thunder echoed across the mountain range. Then, just as swiftly as it had appeared, the lightning died, the thunder ceased and the mountains were once again shrouded in darkness and silence.

On one of the southern mountains, along the border of Dunland, a band of orcs were scurrying desperately up it's heights. They didn't even glance at the magnificent view that they had just been witness to. Their focus was directed towards escape.

Less then a mile behind, moving almost wraith-like across the rocky terrain, came a huge, cloaked figure who moved much to quietly for a man of his size. A broadsword was strapped to his waist and his chest was lined with half a dozen knives and daggers. The man's hood was raised and his face was completely hidden underneath it. Unlike the orcs, he did pause to admire the view afforded to him by the lightning but he quickly refocused on the tracks before him. He had a job to do.

Fear. He could sense their fear. Not in the way an animal might but nevertheless he could sense it. In fact, to The Hunter's trained mind, it couldn't be any clearer. The thundering of the orcs' feet had steadily increased and they had also become louder, much louder. Even a dwarf could hear them now, let alone the highly tuned ears of The Hunter. They were prey and they knew their hunter was fast approaching.

The sound of tumbling rocks reached The Hunter's ears and the big man paused momentarily once again. They couldn't be more then a few hundred meters ahead now. They must be almost within sight. The Hunter resumed his climb, this time at a much faster pace.

The Hunter had tracked them almost nonstop for the past day. He had picked up on their trail at the base of the mountains bordering Dunland where a caravan had been attacked by the orc raiding party. There had been no survivors. The Hunter knew that as soon as he came within sight of the caravan. Almost twenty men had been killed by his reckoning and half as many orcs. Had the caravan possessed more guards, the orc's wouldn't have stood a chance. A fully trained warrior was the equal of many orcs after all. Unfortunately, the caravan had very few guards and they were quickly overwhelmed by the numerically superior orc raiding party. The remains of the caravan had been all the motivation he had needed. After all, he was The Hunter and he had discovered prey. It was time to hunt.

Following their tracks had been easy. Orcs weren't known for their tracking skills.

The tracks led straight up into the mountains. The Hunter assumed the orcs had hoped that they would dissuade any potential retaliation from Dunland by picking such as difficult path.

It wasn't exactly an easy orcs had taken a smaller, less used trail that cut up and across one of the mountains in the hopes that it would deter any pursuit. The trail was only a few feet in width and it criss-crossed directly up the face of the mountain. From the base of the mountain, the trail was completely camouflaged. In fact, in some spots he barely had room to walk straight and was forced to shuffle sideways across. Nevertheless, The Hunter was much more skilled in the art of mountaineering then the orcs and he had closed the distance between them steadily, despite their attempts at evasion.

The orcs, with their superior sense of smell must have sensed him coming from miles away. The fact that they didn't turn to fight meant that they were still hoping that their pressure would give up and return to Dunland. After all, very few men in this region would be crazy enough to chase a orc raiding party by themselves across flat land let alone across such treacherous Hunter allowed himself a quick moment of satisfaction before he suppressed it. Over confidence was dangerous.

The chase continued for several more minutes before The Hunter finally reached the top of the climb and the orcs came into view at were roughly a dozen of them. He could make out their squat forms clumsily navigating their way across the mountainous trail, less then a hundred meters ahead. This band didn't appear to be well armoured. He only made out one orc with anything even resembling a piece of metal armour in the form of a battered bronze shield. The rest wore leather breast pieces with an assortment of spears and rusted scimitars in their hands.

Easy pickings. The Hunter smiled to himself.

The orcs must have caught on to the fact that his scent had become suddenly much stronger because they all stopped and turned as one. For a moment no one moved, they just remained motionless, like a deer herd caught in the open by a Warg. The Hunter, almost casually, began his approach.

The orcs, shifted closer together and snarled nervously.

The Hunter had to admit, he was impressed. These orcs were smarter then most. Most would have continued running had they know that The Hunter was on their , they would have run and he would have cut them down one by one. This band realized they they stood a better chance of surviving if they confronted their foe together rather then fleeing. Or perhaps they just realized that escape was impossible now with The Hunter so close. Either way, It didn't really matter.

He slowly drew his broadsword and calculated his approach. The orcs weren't in any particular battle formation so a complicated approach wasn't necessary. The orcs just sat there, shouting amongst themselves in the high, guttural orc Hunter flexed his fingers in anticipation.

As he drew within twenty meters the orc with the shield, the leader The Hunter presumed, strode forward confidently. He was larger then the rest of his band by half a foot. Animalistic green eyes glared at this new arrival.

"You shouldn't have come," the leader rasped in Common.

The Hunter stopped, his face revealing nothing. He just stared at the orc, completely concealed by his cloak.

The seconds ticked by and the orc shuffled his feet, a sliver of uncertainty etching his monstrous face. Glancing back at his comrades, he drew his sword. He couldn't afford to appear weak. Smashing it against his shield he roared in challenge.

Still, The Hunter did not move.

This perplexed the orc. He was used to humans fleeing from him or, at the very least charging at him. He had never experienced this before and wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Finally, The Hunter spoke. His words were cold and emotionless. "You should have kept running. It's more fun when you run."

The orcs murmured uneasily and their chief spat in fury at them. "He just one man! Why you scared?" When he got no response he snarled and yelled something in orcish. He then turned back to face The Hunter and charged.

The Hunter watched his approach with an almost hungry expression although the orc could not see it. No sign of concern was even visible on The Hunter. If the orc didn't know any better, he would have believed their pursuer to be completely at ease with his situation.

Another flash of lightning cut through the darkness, revealing the man's eyes for a brief moment. What he saw in those eyes stopped him dead in his track. What he saw was hatred. Hatred with a tinge of something else: something darker. They contained no hint of fear just a piercing, cold, rage.

The Hunter suddenly moved and was upon the orc almost before he had time to react. Much quicker then any would have thought possible, he lashed out at the orc chief. The flustered orc back stepped quickly and desperately brought his sword out in front of him defensively, but it was quickly knocked aside. As quickly as he had struck, The Hunter reversed the swing of his sword and knocked aside the orc's shield as he brought it up to bear. They exchanged a fury of blows and it appeared the orc had the advantage due to his shield. The Hunter had been fighting and hunting orcs for most of his life, however, and that was more then enough to compensate.

The Hunter pressed on viciously, relentlessly. They exchanged a few more blows but the orc knew it was hopeless. He was actually surprised he wasn't dead already. After only a few seconds of fighting, The Hunter had the orc's shield out wide once again and the orc saw the end swiftly approaching.

The Hunter never hesitated. He delivered a swift kick to the orc's left knee and he heard a satisfying crack. The orc roared in pain and dropped to his knee. The Hunter followed up with a downwards arc of his blade which cut cleanly through the orc's right shoulder and came to a halt a few inches from his heart. The orc stared at him in shock. Then, in one swift movement, he kicked the orc again sending him hurtling to the ground. Withdrawing his blade in the same instance, he turned to face the rest of the orcs and dropped into a defensive stance. The orcs just stared, paralyzed by fear. This one man had made their leader seem like nothing more then a child.

They had only two options: die running, or die fighting. They chose the latter and, with a battlecry, they charged.

Once again the tranquility of the Misty Mountain's was shattered only this time it wasn't from the sound of thunder but from the sound of battle. The battle lasted no more then a few minutes and when it was over a dozen mangled corpses lay scattered across the mountain trail. Directly in the centre of the carnage, stood the cloaked figure of The Hunter: silent and impassive and completely unscathed. He remained like that for sometime before slowly raising his cloaked face skyward.

Far above, a break in the clouds appeared and moonlight momentarily pierced the clouds and stretched across the mountain range.

The effect on The Hunter was brief but dramatic. His shoulders slouched, as if bearing the weight of the world and his anger flickered and died. Suddenly The Hunter was gone. In his place stood a man. He gazed at the moon and a torrent of emotions assaulted him. All fought for supremacy over him and, for that brief moment, he was human once more. But then the moonlight disappeared and the cold shell of The Hunter reformed about him protectively.

A apathetic look appeared on the man and, clenching his jaw as if in some invisible pain, The Hunter stalked away into the night, leaving a trail of death in his wake.


End file.
